The Miner's Silver Ghost
by Erwin Rommel98
Summary: A short story. Nick worked for a railroad a long time ago. One night, while manning a switching shack, he sees something he will never forget.


I'll never forget that night for as long as I live. It grew dark early that evening, thanks to storm clouds that came rolling in about an hour before dusk. I remember watching out the window as dark grey clouds quickly blotted out the sun and ruined the sunset, which bummed me a little as I always enjoyed watching the beautiful pinks and oranges. The wind began to pick up too. Slowing building to a low moan before dissipating then flaring up again. The few trees there were along the tracks bucked and swayed. Around me, the shack creaked and groaned like an old giant with arthritis. Used to give me the heebie-jeebies but I got used to it pretty quickly. It's always windy on the mountain there.  
I winced as the two bulbs mounted in the ceiling flickered. What if the storm took out the power lines? That would not be good. For one, it would take the telegraph out with it, and two, its creepy as hell in here without light. Come to think of it, I had always taken the electric lighting for granted and had never wondered what it would be like without it. I remember there was an old oil lamp in a cupboard on the wall behind the control levers but had never had to use it. Thankfully the lights stayed on that night.  
I quickly put those thoughts out of my mind and leaned back in my wooden chair, causing it to squeak in protest, and put my feet up on the desk before proceeding to lite my pipe. The room was quickly filled with the sweet smell of Richardson's Own Blend, my favorite that I got from a local grower from back home. Still smoke it to this day though the price has gone up a bit, and old Nigel has long since died. God bless his soul.  
That night wasn't going to be busy. The daily train that came and took all the ore from the mine back down to the smelter had already come and I wasn't expecting anything else. However, that didn't matter and there always had to be someone in the shack watching the two switching points off the mainline, one that lead to the mine and one that lead off into a siding used to store excess cars. That night, the siding was empty. I eyed the three levers sticking out of the floor to my right. These were what I would use if I needed to let a train onto the track that lead to the mine or onto or off of the siding.  
I remember I had sort of zoned out for a while, how long I don't know, but I know it was long enough for my pipe to go out. Something broke me from my reverie, probably a loud gust of wind or something. Either way, I noticed it had begun to rain, for the large plate glass window in front of me was covered in splashes of water and I could hear the soft pitter-patter of drops on the roof.  
I stood up and walked over to my coat hanging on a peg by the door to grab another pinch of tobacco for my pipe when something interesting happened. The telegraph started chattering. Actually, the teleprinter. A thing that transcribed the dots and dashes received by the telegraph onto a long thin piece of paper. Either way, it was unusual for this to happen so late at night.  
I walked over to the machine and watched as the paper came out of it like a snake coming out of an egg. A sharp clicking sound signaled the end of the message and the cutting of the paper, which almost fell to the floor but I caught it first. I had gotten quite good at reading Morse Code and it took me only a few seconds to read what it said. It said that there was a train racing up the mountain at full speed. Now that was odd in itself. For one, trains can't really go that fast up a mountain, and this mountain was no exception. Two, the message said that the cab on the engine was empty. Totally empty.  
"This can't be right." I thought. So I read it again and of course, it said the same thing. I figured something was wrong and maybe the guy at the other station just hadn't seen the engineer or fireman in the dark. I messaged back and asked for him to clarify himself.  
He repeated what he already said, putting more emphasis on the words 'no crew'. It didn't state if I was supposed to do anything or not. I guessed it was just a heads up.  
"What the heck?" I thought. There was nothing for it but to wait and see what he meant. It didn't take long.  
I heard it first. I long mournful wail carrying up the mountain on the wind. Goodness, it was scary. To this day I can hear it perfectly in my head, bouncing around like a gunshot in a canyon. Then the light. A white light moving along the track down below me, heading for the curve that would bring it to my section of the track. Behind it, there was an orange glow that could only be the engine's boiler. I had never seen one get so hot before. I watched as the light disappeared behind a rocky outcropping before reappearing, this time shining in my direction and casting a cone of light that lit everything up in eerie tones of grey and black. The boiler behind it formed an orange halo behind the head immensely bright headlamp.  
Quickly it approached. The whistle getting louder and louder. I remember wondering where the other noises that usually accompanied a train where. Noises like the wheels clicking over connections or the squeal of insufficiently oiled axels. None of that was there. The only noise was that of the whistle, and it thoroughly spooked me, causing the fur on the back of my neck to stand up.  
It was only seconds later that the train reached the station. It was moving at something like 50 miles an hour. Way to fast for this line.  
"Is the engineer insane?" I thought. That's when I saw it. In the three or four seconds the cab was in view of my window, I saw that there was indeed no one in it. The inside was lit with a whiteish glow that I have no explanation for and clearly showed that it was empty. I also saw the number below the window, and this is what made my blood run cold and froze me to the spot. It was the number 41 in large white lettering. I didn't really comprehend anything after that, but I do sort of recall that the train took the track that lead to the mine, and that none of the cars that followed the engine made a single noise as they passed. Like I said, I sort of was out of it for that part, so I have no idea how many cars there were, just that they were silent.

"So, was this the ghost train they call the Miner's Silver Ghost?" Judy asked, looking up from her notebook where she had been hastily jotting what Nick had been saying. The legend of the silver ghost had led her to Nicks home, where they were now sitting on the front porch. Both of them in old fashioned white rocking chairs.  
She had discovered that Nick wasn't your stereotypical old guy. He was very well-spoken, with hardly a tremor in his voice. He was dressed in a white shirt and a pair of denim overalls. His feet were shod in old work boots, that had clearly seen better days. He smelled faintly of aftershave, his speech radiated pure confidence and he was surrounded by an inexplicable air of mysteriousness. He was definitely someone worth the time it took to come out and visit him.  
"Yes, it was," Nick replied. "You see, it's called that because that engine derailed while on its way with an equipment train to the mine to rescue a group of trapped miners. It was going to fast when it hit that curve I mentioned earlier. Flew off the tracks and down the mountainside. Needless to say, there were no survivors."  
He smiled. His teeth still pearly white, despite his age and having smoked a pipe for 60 years. There was something in that smile that made Judy lose focus for a few seconds. Something that if he had been her age would have charmed her to no end. she silently wished she had known him when he was younger.  
"But why did it come back?" she asked.  
"It's because it never got to rescue those mammals trapped in the mine that night. I had been told about it before but had scoffed it up as some superstition but after that night… well, I needn't say more. I also learned that night that there had been a cave-in up at the mine. About 70 or so workers were trapped. None survived."  
"So, do you think it was coming for them?"  
"In a way, yes. I think it was coming for there souls though. To help get them to the other side."  
Judy nodded. That made sense to her.  
"And one other thing," Nick said, causing her to stop writing and look at him with questioning eyes.  
"I think that the engine itself feels guilty for not reaching those mammals that night, like a mother who lost a child to something preventable."  
"What do you mean?" Judy asked, thoroughly intrigued.  
"I mean, I think the crew of the train had nothing to do with the train coming back. I think that somehow the engine has feelings." He sighed and lit up a pipe that Judy had somehow not noticed him grab from a drawer in a table next to his chair and fill with tobacco. "I don't know how to explain it any better than that." He said after a few puffs.  
Judy was silent for a few seconds. In all her research for her new book, this was the first tale she had come across where the ghost was a machine.  
"You know, Mr. Wilde…"  
"Please, call me Nick. Everyone else did." Said the fox smiling.  
"Ah, uh. Ok." Judy stammered. That smile. And those eyes. Those green eyes that held so much wisdom and yet were so mysterious. Man, he really knew how to mess with her. "You know, Nick," she said after recovering her composure "In all the time I've spent researching stories for this book, yours is the first that doesn't involve any mammals at all, just a machine."  
"Oh?" he said, raising an eyebrow and taking a puff from his pipe.  
"Yes, and I think it's going to be the highlight of my book." She closed her notebook and capped her pen.  
"Well, that is quite flattering Mrs. Hopps…"  
"Please, call me Judy." Said Judy as she put her things into her bag and stood up.  
Nick grinned.  
"Ok, Judy. I would stand up and escort you to your car, but my knees just aren't what they used to be."  
"That's alright Nick." She said, reaching out her hand and giving his a firm shake. "you were more than helpful today."  
"I'm glad." He said, then fell silent as he watched her walk down the stairs and to the driver's side of her Volkswagen bug. She opened the door and tossed her pack into the passenger's seat. Before getting in, she gave him one last wave that he returned. The engine turned over, and within a minute, the only thing left of her was a light pall of dust from the gravel drive hanging in the air.  
Nick sat on the porch for a few more minutes and finished off his pipe, before slowly getting up from his chair. He stood for a second on the porch, feeling the breeze on his face, going back over the freshly revived memories of that night so long ago before turning around and going back inside.

**Hello! I know it's been a while since I last uploaded something. I also know I have some other stories in the works that I need to finish. However, I have only recently been motivated to write, much less had the time, and I wanted to write something I could finish in one sitting.**  
**This story is based on a song by Merle Haggard called "The Miner's Silver Ghost", one of my favorites.**  
**I will eventually get back to my other two stories, but I can't promise when.**  
**As usual, I love hearing from y'all, and if you have any ideas or comments, I'd love to hear them.**

**Signing off,**  
**Erwin**


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